


Hold Tight

by cadkitten



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Caught, M/M, Masturbation, Melancholy, Multiple Orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 13:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15365556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: The best of you will fall. He debated it every time a man fell on the field, fretted and worried that they had been more skilled and simply overshadows, more diplomatic and simply quiet, moresomethingthan Achilles. That tomorrow would be the day he lost the sun in his life.





	Hold Tight

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in love and I cannot let go. The Song of Achilles is a masterpiece.

The rain was whisper soft against the sides of their tent. Somewhere outside Patroclus could hear one of the men whistling a soft tune. It wasn't one he recognized but it was calming all the same. 

Achilles had gone to see his mother despite the storm that brewed all around them and Patroclus had taken the rare opportunity to just exist. He always felt like the ever-present walls of Achilles' oncoming death were pressing in on him, tearing him down brick by brick, threatening to take away at every instant and every turn. 

_The best of you will fall._

He debated it every time a man fell on the field, fretted and worried that they had been more skilled and simply overshadowed, more diplomatic and simply quiet, more _something_ than Achilles. That tomorrow would be the day he lost the sun in his life.

But sometimes, when the rain fell outside and the tent remained empty, he could find peace without those thoughts. A stolen instant in the midst of the grief of a battlefield, the patient winding of his thoughts trailing into nothingness at the frail edges of sleep. 

He closed his eyes and he existed, reveling in that instant between waking and sleep, at the edge of what he imagined peaceful death might feel like. The single moment before a heart stops beating, the last flutter of pulse before blood ceased its liquid flow.

His eyelids fluttered and he let the iron grip he held on his control ebb away, allowed his body freedom just the same as his mind and when it chose something aside from sleep, he couldn't say he was surprised. His hand drifted along his bare abdomen, over the smoothness of planes weeks untouched to grasp his swollen length. His hips arched toward his hand and his soft sigh floated away on the still air, hidden beneath the steady fall of the rain outside.

He turned his head to Achilles' side of their bedding, pushed his nose against the very spot where his head rested night after night and beneath the tang of sweat and the tease of his own smell, he found that thing that had always belonged to Achilles. A scent so uniquely his own that Patroclus could have picked him out of a thousand other men, blindfolded and trussed. 

His lips passed over the spot, his body twisting until he was nearly lying on his front, his legs spread and his hand moving with purpose. His breath huffed and his hips rocked and when he could stand it no more, he imagined opening Achilles up to him, imagined showing him this side of pleasure once more. The ghost of Achilles' hands slid over his hips, the impression of his legs tightening around Patroclus' thighs drawing him deeper into the fantasy. His hips rocked and his breath grew frantic, excited in the debt his body owed to itself. 

The first licking coils tightened within him and he spread himself further, widened his hips and abandoned his own touch for the pressure of the bedding beneath him. Purpose and intent coiled within him, ever tightening until stars danced before his eyes.

" _Achilles_."

It was whisper thin, barely a spoken word and yet it seemed to somehow summon him to Patroclus' side. The flap was drawn back, the rain louder for an instant and then gone, banished back to the outside world and leaving him and Achilles in his faintly seawater scented self to negotiate whatever this had become. 

His body tensed and with a quiet cry, all the tension broke within Patroclus' body. Shivers ran up his spine and chills curled through his limbs, his hips worked a steady rhythm as his entire being pulsed with his pleasure, the warmth of it spilling between himself and the cloth beneath him.

Achilles' hands were less of a ghost and more of a reality then, steady in the way they grasped him and coaxed him, in the edge of their frantic bid to twine them as one. It was quicker than normal, hesitant nowhere and riled to the point of insanity. 

Heat filled Patroclus to every corner of his being, cast a radiant glow throughout his heart and his mind, and even as the rhythmic sound of their union swelled above the consistency of the rain, he found he didn't mind the looks that would come. 

Achilles' hands worked where Patroclus' had abandoned their task, kept him steady where he failed to find purchase, held him and comforted him as if the ends of the world could never hold them, and for an instant he forgot the looming desperation, the horrible claw of prophecy, and clung instead to the only thing that had ever felt right.

He heard his own name, spoken again and again upon the air, listened to the gasps of the only man who truly mattered, and he filed those moments away within everything else, held them dear to his heart and close within his soul.

When he came apart it was a shattering of a clay pot upon the floor, a crack of lightning through the sky. It was bliss and a blanket of darkness that he welcomed and when he found himself cradled in those sweet arms, his body resting upon Achilles' own, dampness between his thighs, he found the fragile ends of happiness once again and he drew them close, closed them around them like a blanket, and he clung to them as a drowning man would a hand extended. 

The rain continued to fall just, as he promised himself, would Troy.


End file.
